When I was a kid, there were always all these urban legends about dreaming—eating a marshmallow and waking up to find holes in your pillow, or that the feeling of falling while your drifting off could kill you (seriously). One such myth was that you couldn’t actually eat in a dream. That’s a lie. I eat in my dreams all the time.
What’s weird is when it’s a food I’ve never eaten before. Last night, for example, I dreamt I was back in our old country house in St. Donat, Quebec, eating blueberry pizza. It was especially strange because I have such strong food associations with that place (Whippets, croissants, chicken from some place I can’t remember the name of, plums and bubblegum ice cream). But there I was, in my dream, eating some cheap, greasy pizza that had blueberry sauce instead of tomato sauce.
Let me tell you, it was delicious.
I real life, I’d go for a nice triple cream or mild goat cheese, and something slightly more delicate than pizza dough, but I think I might be onto something. Just another reason I really should be sleeping more.